Always On Your Side
by only-more-love
Summary: Postep for Stargazer in a Puddle. Honoring Hodgins' and Angela's request, Booth and Brennan attend their friends' wedding reception and find that sometimes, circumstances change even when you're not looking for them to do so. x Booth and Brennan x
1. Save the Last Dance for Me

**A/N: **I honestly don't know where this came from. I was thinking about the fact that in Stargazer in a Puddle, Angela and Hodgins asked all their wedding guests to go ahead and enjoy the reception in their absence, and this is what spilled out. I don't know if I like it or really, really hate it. I don't know if it's angsty, fluffy, out of character, or just plain awful. Hell, I can't even decide if it's a one-shot, or if it needs at least an additional chapter. But it's what I wrote, and I'm sharing it. If you feel up to it, I'd love to know how it read to you.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

By the way, if you haven't heard Michael Buble's _Save the Last Dance for Me_, you're missing out. It has Bones and Booth written all over it. :)

_I've waited all my life, to cross this line, to the only thing that's true..._  
-- Ryan Cabrera, _True_

Right before Angela and Hodgins had run away from their wedding, they'd asked their guests to attend the reception in their absence and have a good time. It would be a shame to let the space they'd rented for the reception go to waste, which was why Booth stood watching his partner from the other side of the ballroom at the swank Four Seasons Hotel. He scowled as he watched her glide across the floor in the arms of a tall, blonde man he'd never seen before. Who was that guy, anyway? Booth's eyes narrowed as Temperance tipped her head back and laughed at something her dance partner had said. His fists clenched when he saw the man's hand skim down the back of Temperance's dress toward her--

Suddenly feeling hot, he yanked off his tux jacket and left it on an empty chair. One tug at his bow tie and that was gone, too. Quickly rolling up his sleeves, he stalked toward the object of his attention.

"Hey, buddy. Mind if I cut in?" Without waiting for an answer, he muscled in between the two, grabbed his partner's hand, and pulled her along behind him as he strode away.

"Booth, that was extremely rude. You're always telling me do something fun. Well, I was having fun."

"That's not the kind of fun I meant. Didn't your dad teach you not to talk to strange men?"

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "We were merely dancing. What could be wrong with that?"

"You want to dance, dance with me. _Save the Last Dance for Me_ started up and Booth smiled. "Come here." Wrapping one arm around her waist and clasping her other hand in his, he pulled her closer. They swayed to the music. He inhaled and nearly groaned as her scent washed over him. How could a woman who spent most of her day around bones and bodies in various states of decomposition smell that damned good?

"For all you know. he could be some kind of axe murderer." He twirled her around as the music swelled, and then smoothly reeled her back in, humming the tune under his breath.

"He's _not _an axe murderer; he's Angela's neighbor. She's told me about him. He's a model."

Booth sniffed. "Oh, well, then he's probably gay. A gay axe murderer."

She pulled her hand from his grasp and smacked him in the shoulder. "Stop it." She wore her most severe expression. He wasn't intimidated.

"I'm just saying it's a possibility. You haven't done a background check."

"Why is it any of your business who I dance with, anyway?"

He dipped her and risked a peek at the cleavage revealed by her purple bridesmaid's dress. "If my partner's dancing with an axe murderer, it's my business."

"For the last time, James is not an axe murderer."

"Oh, so now it's James, huh?"

"That's his name, Booth," she said, in what he privately thought of as her prissy schoolmarm voice. "Would you prefer I referred to him as the extremely handsome blue-eyed man I was dancing with? Quite happily, I might add."

"Yeah, you seemed happy all right," he muttered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Her narrowed eyes shot daggers.

"You were doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"You know, that thing where you tilt to your head to the side and smile, just a little. Like you have a really juicy secret. I've seen you use it on Sully."

She blushed, and he had to admit the color looked good on her. "It's called making conversation. You of all people should know that."

"No, it's called flirting." Her tone was so indignant he had to keep himself from laughing at her.

"Come on, Bones, the guy had his hands all over you. He was trying to cop a feel."

"He was not."

"Yeah, he was. His hand was on your back, moving south. Fast."

"South toward what exactly?" Her expression was arch, as if she knew she was making him squirm.

It was his turn to blush. Mercifully, the song ended, and they broke apart. "I'm parched. You want a drink?"

Fortunately, she let the subject drop. "Champagne, please."

"One glass of champagne, coming up." He flashed her his best charm smile and hurried off.

On his way back, he paused and scanned the room until he spotted her. She sat with her profile to him, cell phone pressed to her ear, one hand worrying a strand of hair that had slipped free of her braid. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. That much was clear from the stiff line of her back.

He set the glass down in front of her and waited for her to end the call.

"I...I do too. Bye." She flipped her phone shut and fumbled with it, nearly dropping it before managing to put it in her purse.

"There's your drink." He nodded at her champagne. "Everything ok?"

For a long moment, she remained silent. He leaned back in his chair and took a long pull of his beer, enjoying its coolness. He waited for her to speak, knowing better than to push her when her lip trembled like that. Besides, he was good at waiting.

"That was my father. He used his prison phone privileges to call. He said...He said he was sorry and he hoped this would all be cleared up soon. Said I should enjoy Angela's wedding."

"Then maybe you should."

"That's what I was trying to do earlier, but you found a way to stop that. Why? Oh yes, because you thought James, the gay would-be axe murderer was trying touch my a--"

"Don't say it." He stuck his fingers in his ears, just in case.

"Whatever. You know what I learned about my family this weekend?"

"No, what?" The abrupt change of subject might have jarred anyone who was observing their conversation, but he didn't miss a beat.

"I learned I had a maternal grandmother I never knew about. A grandmother, Booth. My parents told me and Russ we didn't have any family. Now suddenly I have a dead grandmother and two living aunts on my mother's side." She held her hand out for his perusal. The braided silver band shone in the light. "He said the ring was passed down from oldest daughter to oldest daughter. Apparently if I show my aunts this ring, they'll know me and accept me into the family." Her laughter rang out, bitter and hollow.

"I'm sorry you're hurting. Really, I am. But isn't it better to know now than to never have known at all?"

"Of course it is! But that's not the point." She sipped from her champagne and shot him a pointed glare. "My parents have been gone for fifteen years. I didn't know if they were dead or alive. Now I know my mother is dead. Murdered. My father is a bank robber, a murderer. He doesn't even have the same face I remember from childhood. He keeps popping in and out of my life sharing bits and pieces of information every time he comes back. And I keep trying to assemble those pieces into something that makes sense. He's gone. No, he's back. I'm Temperance. No, I'm Joy. Max Keenan is a good man, a bad man, a good man." Her voice cracked and she looked away. His fingers itched to touch her, to comfort her, but he knew she wouldn't welcome it then.

When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but no less pained. "That's not all. He gave me something else -- a video my mother made for me. She meant to give it to me when I was sixteen. She said... No, she begged me, to forgive her, to forgive my father. She said my father wanted to keep us together, but she disagreed. Apparently she thought Russ and I would be safer away from them. What she did may have been wrong, she said, but she did it out of love. Just like Cynthia Cole. She murdered her daughter out of love." Her eyes flashed. "If this is what people do out of love, I don't know that I want any part of it."

"Give it time, Bones. You need time to heal. You still have some choices. Maybe, in time, you'll want to see those aunts." He tapped the table for emphasis. "Look, you're here because your parents loved each other. They loved you. And Russ. Whether you agree with their choices or not, please try to accept that ultimately, they did what they thought was best for you. Look, your father didn't have to come back. He didn't have to stay and let himself be arrested. We both know he could have left, just disappeared, so fast and so well that we'd never find him again if he didn't want to be found. Don't be so quick to dismiss love just because you're hurting."

"You love Parker, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, would you ever abandon him?"

"Not intentionally. But if I had to leave him to keep him safe and alive, I would do it. If I had no other choice. If I had to do something that might make him hate me, I would do it. If that was the best thing for him. That's what parents do."

Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she leaned her head in her hands. "I don't think I want to be here right now. I know Angela and Hodgins wanted us all to enjoy the reception even though they're gone, but I suspect I've had all the fun I'm going to have tonight."

"Ok. No problem. Come on. I'll drive you home."

"I can drive myself home, Booth."

"I know you can, Bones. But you don't have to. I'm here, and you're upset. Just relax and let me take you home."

"Ok."

He grabbed the jacket and bow tie he'd abandoned earlier in the evening and swung them over his shoulder. Cam was dancing with a man he didn't recognize, and Zack was nowhere in sight, so he decided to leave quietly. He placed his hand on Temperance's waist to guide her out of the hotel and toward his car.

Her silence during the ride back worried him. Ever since the Gravedigger had kidnapped her and Hodgins, he always walked her to her door and made sure she made it into her apartment without incident. As he'd told her before, he was her partner, her gun.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside her apartment, leaving him to follow. One dim light shone in the corner of the living room, and she didn't bother turning any others on.

"I have a headache. I think it's my hair. Stefan, Angela's hairdresser, said I'd look 'divine' with an 'up-do.' I don't feel divine. He put so many pins in it I feel like a porcupine. My head feels so heavy." She began to yank at her hair with clumsy fingers, fumbling for the offending pins.

"Stop that. Here, I'll do it." She deserved to have someone look after her sometimes. He hated to see her look so sad. It just wasn't right for her to look so...defeated. It would probably kill her to admit she needed him, hell, needed anyone period. Luckily he knew her. Better than she thought.

He took her hand, guided her to the sofa. He pushed gently on her shoulder until she sat down with a heavy sigh. "Scoot over a little so I can sit too." When she complied, he sat down behind her, his back against the armrest and legs up on the sofa on either side of her.

From that angle, the pure, white column of her neck was visible and looked curiously vulnerable. It was a different vantage point. Was her skin as soft as it looked? Leaning forward, he feathered the backs of his fingers over her neck before sliding both hands into her hair and feeling for the first pin. Gotcha. He removed it carefully and placed it on the coffee table. Had she trembled as he brushed his fingers over her skin or had he only imagined it, wished it? Obviously he couldn't ask her. One by one his nimble fingers found the pins and extracted them without scratching her. Reluctant to break the quiet that had wrapped itself around them both, he listened to the music of their breath. In... Out... In... Out...

Their breathing had synchronized at some point.

If he did something, he tried to do it right. He should make sure he'd gotten all the pins. His pulse slowed, echoing the rhythm of their breath. The blood moved thick and heavy in his veins. Something moved through him. Tenderness? Wistfulness? He fumbled to identify the feeling and failed. His hands skimmed over the burnished surface of her hair, smoothed it back from her face. She sighed; he felt it more than heard it. It was wrong. He shouldn't be doing this. But her sigh was an invitation he couldn't resist. Regret he could live with. Just one more thing to add to his cosmic balance sheet. But missed opportunity, well, at that moment it felt like the lesser evil.

He flexed his fingers, let them slip deep into the heavy silk of her hair. Her hair had wound into waves as a result of being braided and pinned, and he shook it out gently. Just to be sure he hadn't missed a pin.

He was treading water. Barely.

When he stroked the pads of his fingers against her scalp, she shuddered. He was sure of it this time. He did it again, for the sheer pleasure of feeling her move under him. The heat of her body surrounded him as she slowly leaned back against him, her back to his chest.

His partner might not believe in the black magic that could burn between two people, but Booth believed. Oh, he believed.

They sat that way for moments or minutes, he wasn't sure which. Over and over he drew his hands through her hair, soothing and gentling. He felt her relax by slow degrees, and the deeper she sank into him, the tighter his body grew. The pressure of her warm, silk-clad form against his was pure torture.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

"Turn around." He pitched his voice low, not wanting to startle her.

She complied, turning to face him. "I'm so tired," she whispered, her blue, blue eyes filled with so much sadness he literally ached for her.

Her hair flowed in thick waves over her bare shoulders, and he knew it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He couldn't give her back all the years she'd missed with her biological family. He probably couldn't even convince her that love was worth all the messiness and pain.

But he could give her this.

She needed this, needed him, whether she realized it or not. And now there was no Sully standing between them, or serving as a buffer or distraction.

She called, and he answered. She was under his skin, and he knew he was under hers. That's how it was between them. In the end it was that simple and that complicated.

"Shh," he said, pressing a finger against her lips. "I know you are. I know. Come here."

_To be continued... _


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: As always, many thanks for reading and reviewing. I so enjoy hearing what you think — even if what you think is that I suck. ;)__ Seriously though, constructive criticism is always welcome. I won't break._

_I like to respond to everyone personally and am almost caught up on replies now. If you commented recently and I haven't written you back, either you're not logged in, you didn't leave an email address, or I just haven't gotten to you yet. _

_If you're reading this story, I'm curious what you think of this chapter. If you're reading and not commenting, that's ok, too. _

_Hope you're all having a good week. _

* * *

Chapter 2: "Everyone's invincible, but it's just pretend."

_Temperance Brennan: "Sometimes people need to explain things to me, I guess."  
Russ Brennan: "Then, you have to let them talk to you."_

When Booth removed his finger from Temperance's lips and tried to ignore how desperately he wanted to kiss her, she released a shaky sigh and got to her feet unsteadily. Before she averted her face, he noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes. His fists clenched involuntarily. He swallowed, scared of the emotions coursing through him. If he'd had a sword available, he would gladly have slayed her dragons — every last one of them.

"I think I should go change."

"You don't need to hide from me," he said, his voice quiet. Brennan's back stiffened, and she froze in mid-step.

"That isn't what I'm doing."

"Sure looks that way to me, Bones." He rose from the couch.

She crossed the room to switch on another light before returning to face him, head held high. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she made no move to brush them away. It almost made him smile — knowing that she _let_ him see her cry. Almost. There was a time when a show of vulnerability like that would have been unthinkable. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

"Not everything, Bones. Just you."

She scoffed and shook her head. "Suddenly you're a mind reader." She crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow. "So tell me what I'm thinking, Booth."

He tilted his head. Tear-stained cheeks. Too many emotions to name swirled in blue eyes that were too big in her pale face. "You're thinking about your family."

Brennan's lips twisted in a smile that told him he was wrong even before she spoke. "Wrong," she replied smugly. "I was thinking that I miss Sully."

For a second, he could have sworn his heart stopped. A flash of cold followed by a blast of heat, as the rage built. "You miss Sully," he repeated, struggling to keep his voice calm and even, though he would gladly have kicked the ass of the man in question if he hadn't been on a boat in the Caribbean.

"Yes, I missed him today, seeing Angela and Hodgins. Even though they didn't get married, it's obvious to any observer that they are happy. I'm happy to see my friend so happy. But I admit there's a part of me that's envious — that wants what she has."

"You want to get married?"

"No, of course not. Marriage is an antiquated—"

"Please don't start with the lecture on marriage right now. Tell me, what do you want?" The answer suddenly seemed very important, and he strained to hear what she would say.

A deep breath that made her chest rise and fall. A slim hand at her throat. "I want... I want someone who stays. When Angela turned down Hodgins' proposal, he just kept trying. When that didn't work, he just let her be Angela. He accepted her. He stayed. I just wish Sully had stayed, too. That's all." She dropped her hand and fiddled with the purple fabric of her dress. "The sex was great. We did things. We had fun. We would have continued to have fun if he'd just stayed."

"Why are you telling me this?" Just imagining her with Sully made him want to hit something. He had to be careful. At that moment, a hundred crazy ties wouldn't have lessened his rage.

"You asked. I'm sharing. Isn't that what you're always telling me to do?"

Having the words he'd spoken to her so many times thrown back at him in that context didn't sit right. He shifted and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness there. "Let me ask you something. If things with Sully were that great, why didn't you sail away with him?"

"You remember what Dr. Wyatt said — I'm not ready to lead a purposeless life yet."

"Yeah, that's what _he_ said. I want to know what _you_ have to say. So I'll ask you again: why didn't you go with Sully?" His hands felt empty, useless, now that he wasn't touching her. He stuffed them into his pockets and held his breath, waiting for her answer.

"Why are we even discussing this, Booth? Why does it matter to you why I didn't leave with Sully?"

He released the breath he'd been holding. "Because I stayed." He touched his hand to his chest. "I'm still here." _If you want me._

"So what? You don't count. Sully liked me."

"Of course he liked you, Bones. What's not to like?"

"No, I mean he liked _me_. Not because of my job or what I can do — just me."

"Is that what this is about? You think I don't like you?" He pretended he didn't understand a lot of her scientific explanations just to keep her talking. Because he liked the sound of her voice. He wore his flashiest socks on the days he knew he'd see her, hoping he'd be able to show them off — so he could watch her shake her head and smile that little smile that always felt like a gift just for him. He made excuses to see her when they weren't working a case.

Nah, he didn't like her.

"Look, Booth, I know you tolerate me. Yes, we get along better now than we did in the beginning. But I embarrass you. I don't get all your jokes, I rarely know the 'right' thing to say. Even your boss doesn't like me."

He waved away her comment. "Cullen doesn't know you like I do. Bones, first and even second impressions can be deceptive." He gestured at himself. "Look at me. What do you see?"

Her gaze swept him from head to toe, and her face assumed the intent expression it did whenever she examined remains. "I see a male, mid-30's, Caucasian descent." Her lips quirked in a small smile. "Well-structured—"

"Thanks."

"—Height, approximately 6 feet 1 inches. I would need to measure the femur and humerus to be certain. Weight—"

"Not just my appearance," he said, interrupting her analysis. Trust her to interpret his question in the most literal way possible. Not that he minded her looking at him. "When you think of me, what else comes to mind?"

Booth watched, fixated, as Brennan looked away, her clinically detached expression dissolving into...what exactly?

"I think of how much you love your son," she said softly. "How much you love this country. I think of how hard you work to catch criminals, and of how good you are at doing so."

"Ok. Now, think back to when we started working together. What did you think of me then?"

Without hesitating, she answered him. "I thought you were arrogant, hotheaded, and not very bright."

"Gee, thanks, Bones."

"Well, you asked. If you can't handle the truth, you shouldn't ask for it."

"Fair enough."

"Now it's your turn."

"But I think I've already made my point."

"Come on, Booth. It's only fair."

He took a deep breath and considered her question seriously. What _had_ he thought of her in the beginning? "I thought you were smart. Incredibly smart. But a little weird."

"Weird? How so?"

"Let me finish, Bones," he chided. "And I thought you were beautiful."

"Oh."

"Now I see how good you are at your job. And how much you care about the truth. Just...how much you care." Booth paused and stepped closer. Dark hair curling over white shoulders that would feel thin but strong, he knew, if he only had the nerve to reach out and curve his hands around them. "I still think you're smart...and beautiful."

He paused and let his mouth tip up in a smile. "So you see, Bones, first impressions can be deceptive." He reached out and cupped Brennan's cheek, savoring the smooth, warm skin under his palm. "Now tell me why you didn't go with Sully. And please be honest." He stepped back, giving her space, wishing she'd stopped him from moving.

Moments ticked by in silence. Her eyes were dry, though tear tracks gleamed silver on her cheeks. Finally, she spoke. "I didn't go with Sully because I couldn't imagine not being here. I didn't want to leave my job, my life." She sighed and shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I didn't want to leave Angela. Or you."

_Or you. _The words reverberated in the air.

She wouldn't look at him; he thought he knew what it cost her to say those two words. He moved toward her soundlessly, though his pulse pounded in his ears. One step, two steps, and he felt the warmth coming off her body, smelled the ghost of her perfume. He lifted his hand to trace her cheekbone and map the tiny lines around her mouth. When she didn't move away, he angled his head down and did what he'd been wanting to do for a long, long time. With a sigh, he touched his lips to hers.

"You're crossing that line, don't you think?" Brennan stepped back from him and folded her arms across her chest. "I didn't realize I was on the list of people you would consider going to for sexual release."

If she had kicked him in the crotch, he would have been less surprised. He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. The things that came out of her mouth sometimes. "After all this time, that's what you think of me — that I would try to use you like that? Especially now, when you're upset? That's harsh, Bones, even for you."

"If you can't handle the truth—"

"I think I've had all the truth I can handle tonight," he ground out, barely able to speak around the tightness in his throat. He had to get out of there before he said or did something he'd regret.

"Booth, I'm not judging you. Sex is a biological imperative."

"Fuck biology." He knew he was cursing, and he didn't care. Damn her for making him feel things he didn't want to feel — and for trying to rationalize every last sacred thing. Temperance Brennan didn't believe in God, but she worshipped all the same — at the altar of science.

And damn him for being so sure that he understood her. He'd held her when she cried, broken the law for her, threatened to kill for her. All for her. Not because she'd asked him to, but because that's what his gut and his heart had told him to do. But did he really know her? Did she know him? Maybe he'd just been deluding himself. He'd just assumed, and conveniently forgotten that, "Assuming makes an ass out of you and me." He sure felt like an ass.

"Booth—"

Her voice scraped him raw. Booth turned and walked away, pausing at the front door.

"Don't forget to lock up."

_To be continued..._


	3. Reckoning

**Author's Note: ** Thank you so very much to everyone who recently commented on Come Undone (or any of my other fics) and/or offered to be a sounding board. I was surprised, in a good way, by the feedback and beta offers I received. I'm in the middle of responding to you all. Forgive me if it takes a little while; that doesn't lessen my appreciation.

Life is testing my patience these days, so I feel rather stressed and don't know how this turned out. If you've got a second, please hit the review button after you've read this chapter. I'd love to hear what you thought, for better or worse. And con crit is always appreciated, so if you see an error or hate how I characterized someone, feel free to mention it.

Lastly, if you saw this week's episode, who else wishes we'd gotten a flashback of Seeley Booth clad only in socks and his St. Christopher medal? ;) Come on, I know I can't be the only one.

* * *

Chapter 3: Reckoning 

"Booth!" Angela called out. "So, did you have fun at the reception? Maybe get trashed and tongue kiss the maid of honor?" Her dark eyes shone with mischief as her lips curved in a lascivious smile; Temperance sighed and briefly considered strangling her best friend. She had an uncanny ability to uncover sensitive spots and apply uncomfortable pressure to them.

"Hey, Angela. Uh, yeah." He cleared his throat. As he did so, his glance slid toward her for a millisecond, before sliding away, just as quickly. "It was fun." He straightened his slim, navy blue tie, and against her will, Temperance recalled the gentleness of his hands in her hair as he had removed each pin with care. She resolutely locked away the memory.

Angela smirked. "Try a little harder. That wasn't very convincing."

"Sorry, Angela. Don't have time to talk right now. We might have a case." He turned away from Angela. "Dr. Brennan," Booth said, not meeting her gaze and instead staring at a point between her eyes. Temperance blinked, frowned, and pretended not to notice the way Angela's eyebrows shot up at Booth's use of her title. "We need your help identifying some remains that were found on the side of the Beltway. There was a massive jam because of a jacknifed tractor trailer. So this guy decided to get out of his car to take a leak and found some bones. Called the police. A state trooper got there first. Not sure if the remains are human or animal."

"Tension. Aisle number 3," Hodgins muttered, earning himself a jab in the side from Angela and a glare from Booth.

Zack's gaze bounced from Hodgins and Angela to Booth and Brennan, and his eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."

"All right," she said with a brisk nod. "Let me change and get my kit. I'll meet you out front."

Booth nodded and walked away, his body a long, straight, unyielding line, and Temperance felt her mouth tremble. Until she consciously firmed it. Ignoring the silence Booth left in his wake, a silence even_ she_ could tell vibrated with unspoken questions, she turned on her heel and strode toward her office. The tap tap of low heels on the polished floor told her exactly who was following her, and she shook her head with a weary sigh. "Angela, I don't have time to talk right now."

"Make time."

Temperance looked up and observed her friend's pinched mouth and worried eyes. "Ange, I have to change and then go. You heard Booth. We have a case."

"Fine, then I'll just follow you into the bathroom, and we can talk there." Stubbornness colored Angela's voice; years of experience had taught Temperance that resistance was futile.

Still a token protest was in order. "Angela..."

"Don't Angela me, Brennan."

Temperance rolled her eyes and picked up her Jeffersonian jumpsuit and kit, inwardly resigned to her moment of reckoning. Of course it would occur in the Jeffersonian restrooms, she thought with a small smile.

* * *

Brennan closed the stall door and removed one of her shoes, balancing carefully as she stepped out of one pant leg and then the other. 

"Dr. Brennan? Since when does Booth call you Dr. Brennan?"

"I don't know, Angela," Temperance said, removing her blouse and slinging it over the top of the stall. "I don't pretend to understand the workings of the male mind."

"Sweetie, something happened. I smell trouble. I thought something was weird when Booth called you Dr. Brennan, and you just confirmed it."

"But I didn't."

"I don't know why you even bother pretending, Bren. I can hear it in your voice."

Temperance quickly filled Angela in on her dance with James and then Booth's rude interruption. "...and then he called him a gay axe murderer, Angela."

Angela let out a peal of laughter, and Temperance didn't have to see her face to know that it was wreathed in a wide smile. "That's because he was jealous. He probably didn't like seeing you with another guy."

"But that's not rational, Angela. We're not romantically involved."

"Honey,_ feelings_, whether you choose to act on them or not, aren't rational. I know you know that. You try to break the world down into neat little pieces that all fit together, just so. Because you think that will keep you safe. But life isn't like that. We talked about this just a couple days ago."

Indeed they had. Brennan recalled the recent conversation during which she'd told Angela that she knew she missed so much by avoiding strong emotional attachments with other people. But how did Booth figure into that? "Are you saying you think Booth has feelings for me?"

"I think that's something you'll have to ask Booth." She didn't speak for several seconds, and Temperance stepped into the jumpsuit and adjusted it. "Now tell me what happened next."

"My father called. Afterward, I felt...off. I could have driven myself home, but Booth insisted on taking me."

"And...?"

Temperance sighed and zipped up the jumpsuit. "I had a headache because of all those pins Stefan had put in my hair."

"Beauty is pain," Angela replied with a laugh.

"I started to take them out, but Booth stopped me. He...He removed them all for me," she said, realizing her voice had gone soft at the recollection.

"Wow. That sounds romantic."

"It wasn't romantic," she said, and knew it was a lie. "It was...I don't know what it was." She zipped up the jumpsuit and reached for her discarded clothes and bag, knowing she couldn't hide in the stall forever. She unlocked the door and stepped out. "I was upset," she admitted.

"Why?"

"At first it was because of my parents. But then I started to miss Sully." She took a deep breath and looked at her friend. "I'm happy for you, Angela. Though you didn't marry as you planned to, you still have Hodgins. You're well-suited to each other, and he makes you smile. Even I can see that. And I...I envy that." The admission made her feel vaguely ashamed, and it was difficult to hold Angela's gaze.

"Oh, sweetie." Angela stretched out her arms and pulled Temperance into a hug. Temperance closed her eyes and let herself breathe in the warm, comforting smell of her friend's perfume and realized she was not nearly as alone in the world as she had felt the night of Angela's non-wedding. Angela pulled back, her hands still on Temperance's shoulders. "I'm sorry. I know it's hard for you, with Sully being gone and all. But there are plenty of other fish in the sea," she said with a grin and a wink.

"I told Booth I missed Sully, that I wished he'd stayed," she said, steering the conversation back to the events of that night. Though she hadn't wanted to discuss it at first, her encounter with Booth had weighed on her mind all weekend. She'd lain awake for hours after he'd left. But Angela had been out of town with Hodgins. Now, it was, Temperance silently admitted to herself, a relief to discuss that night with her friend, who could always be counted upon to listen with compassion.

"What did he say?"

"He asked me what I wanted. And we talked about our first impressions of each other and our current impressions. He told me he thought I was beautiful. And...he asked me why I didn't go away with Sully."

"Did you answer him?"

"Yes. He kept pushing, Ange. He said it mattered because _he'd__ stayed_. It was as if the answer was really important to him."

"I think maybe it was." Angela smiled gently, her eyes shining with warmth.

"I told him I didn't want to leave my life here. My job. Or you. And him."

"Oh my god. You told Booth you didn't go away with Sully because of him? I can't believe it. So then what happened? And don't you dare hold out on me."

"He kissed me, Ange."

Angela put a hand to her chest. "I can't believe he finally kissed you. It was perfect, wasn't it? Did you sleep with him?"

"No. No, of course not. That would be unprofessional . We're partners. I told him I didn't realize I was on the list of people he would consider going to for sexual release."

Angela gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth, mirroring the shock Temperance had seen on Booth's face the other night. He'd looked...what? Hurt? But that couldn't be right. "Oh, Tempe. You didn't. Please tell me I didn't hear that right. The man told you you were beautiful. He _kissed_ you. And that's what you said?"

"What's wrong with that, Angela? I wasn't judging him. Sex is a biological imperative. I told him that. Then he left."

Angela groaned and covered her eyes. "You didn't."

"Of course I did. It's a well-known fact that—"

Angela cut her off. "Brennan, I love you to pieces. But I have to say, you really stick your foot in your mouth sometimes. What a mood killer."

"I genuinely don't understand."

"Sweetie," she said with a heavy sigh. "Listen to me for a minute, please. And don't interrupt. You were upset. Booth tried to be there for you. Because he cares about you. You told him that he was one of the reasons why you stayed, why you didn't run off to the Caribbean with his friend. So he probably thought it was safe to make a move and kiss you. He took a big risk, and you shot him down. You basically implied that he was trying to take advantage of you when you were vulnerable. That's...Bren, that's offensive. I think you hurt his feelings."

"Hurt his feelings? Angela, he's the one who said that there's a line that we can't cross. After Dr. Saroyan was poisoned, Booth told me that people in our line of work can't get involved because it's too dangerous. I'm not the one who brought up this whole line business."

"It doesn't matter. Booth might have said that, but he _kissed_ you. That has to mean something."

"What it means is that he was feeling hormonal urges."

"No. You're not listening."

"To you or to him? I think I heard Booth just fine. And I quote, 'There's this line, and we can't cross it.'"

"I believe you. I don't doubt that he said that, but sometimes you have to read between the lines to understand what people are really saying."

"I can't do that, Ange. People should say what they mean and mean what they say. I can't go around trying to guess at what people actually mean."

"I know you understand this, Bren. You're just being stubborn. Now go," she said taking Temperance's pants and blouse from her before turning her in the direction of the door and giving her a slight shove. "Fix this."

"There's nothing to fix, Angela."

"Go!"

* * *

The Yukon was idling in front of the Jeffersonian. Booth didn't look at her as she climbed in and shut the door. 

Several minutes passed in an uneasy silence. Brennan stared out her window at the passing cars.

Finally, she turned to look at Booth. "Why did you call me Dr. Brennan? Why didn't you call me Bones, like you usually do?" The question had been gnawing at her since the moment he'd uttered the words. She had hated the nickname at one time, but today, when he'd addressed her as Dr. Brennan, she'd felt unaccountably sad.

Booth's hand tightened on the steering wheel. "You're always telling me it's unprofessional."

Brennan frowned and shook her head. "Actually, I don't think I've said that in a long time."

Booth reached into the center console and pulled out his sunglasses, slipping them on before replying. "Well, you're really proud of all the degrees you have. I figure I should call you Dr. Brennan. You know, in recognition of your status and our strictly professional...relationship." He took his eyes off the road for a second and turned his head in her direction. The sunglasses hid his eyes, leaving his gaze opaque in a way that disquieted her. "In fact, Dr. Brennan, I'd prefer it if you'd refer to me as Agent Booth."

"Agent Booth," she said, trying out the more formal name. But it felt unfamiliar and tasted wrong. Artificial. "I don't like it."

"Whatever," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves and switching on the radio. He moved through the stations, eventually settling on one playing a song with grinding guitars and heavy drums. His hands beat out a tattoo on the steering wheel, his long fingers flexing on the gray leather. She shivered, her eyes traveling from his fingers to his forearm. Light brown hair dusted his skin, glittering in the sunlight streaming in through the windshield. She stared at his arm, willing him to look at her.

But he didn't. He faced forward, his gaze trained on the road.

"How was your weekend?" she asked.

"What?" he said, irritation punctuating the word. "Why would you ask me that?"

"I'm merely attempting to make small talk."

"Well, don't. You sit over there, quietly, and I'll drive." He looked in the rear-view mirror. "That way we'll both make it there alive," he muttered.

"Don't tell me what to do." Her words were met with stony silence. She fidgeted in her seat. Booth's silence was oppressive. He mouthed the words to the song that played on the radio. Her skin felt itchy. She sighed loudly and tried to block out the music and the fact that Booth was ignoring her.

Temperance switched off the radio.

Booth turned it back on, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

She switched it off again and sat back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest.

"Hey. Stop that."

"I don't want to listen to the radio."

"Too bad. I do." Booth reached out and turned the radio back on, but he no longer mouthed the lyrics.

She reached out to turn the volume down, but he batted her hand away. "Stop it. My car, my music, my rules."

She sniffed. "Yes, you do seem to be very concerned with rules these days."

He didn't take the bait.

They drove on in silence for a few more minutes. Temperance cast him a sideways glance. His mouth was set in an ominous line, and his profile looked harsh and forbidding. She had seen that expression on his face before, but she had never been the cause of it. It was like looking at a stranger. She swallowed, her mouth dry.

She couldn't take it anymore. "Is it because of the other night?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Because Angela thinks—"

"Oh, great. You told..." He trailed off and then slowly exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Doesn't matter. We are not talking about this."

"You can't dictate that."

"Oh yeah? Go ahead then — try having a conversation by yourself."

"Booth."

"It's Agent Booth."

"You can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Pretend that nothing happened."

"Nothing_ did_ happen, Dr. Bre—"

She cut him off, clenching her fists and feeling the heat rise in her face. "Stop calling me that." Her heart pounded, and she put a name to the emotion coursing through her — anger.

"Why? That's your name."

"Yes, but..." She shook her head briskly, trying to clear it. "That's not_ your_ name for me." That, she realized with a start, was what had been bothering her. "This isn't rational behavior, Booth. Something happened, and you can't deny it. You _kissed_ me." How could he deny it?

Booth flicked on his turn signal and pulled over to the side of the highway. He cut the ignition and climbed out of the SUV, shrugging into his jacket. Without so much as a backward glance, he shut his door and trudged toward the knot of uniformed personnel.

Temperance snapped on her latex gloves. This, at least, was familiar. She swallowed the lump in her throat and resolutely locked away the memory of Booth's lips against hers, slipping it into the same box in which she'd put away the memory of his hands in her hair.

_To be continued..._


End file.
